


Running Away and Other Family Activities

by cgf_kat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Badass Castiel, Castiel Misses Dean Winchester, Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Castiel is Bad at Feelings (Supernatural), Castiel is Loved (Supernatural), Castiel is a good uncle, Castiel is running away, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Sam Winchester, Sad Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is a good friend, Supportive Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28776252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cgf_kat/pseuds/cgf_kat
Summary: When Sam finally settles down with Eileen, he expected they’d have a child to raise at some point. He didn’t expect to also have a heart weary angel on his hands.In which Castiel is a happy uncle, but he’s also running away from something, and Sam is not the kind of friend to avoid calling him out.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my first SPN fanfic, but the last one I wrote was in 2009 and isn't even on this site, so it's been a while. XD I have my issues with the finale like everyone else, but I wanted to write a fic that kept everything from the finale anyway, just to reclaim it, I guess. And it was supposed to be a oneshot but it got away from me and could go longer, so here's a chapter. This could still technically stand alone, but please let me know if you like it! I can certainly keep going. :) Thanks so much!

There is no hunter’s wake for Dean. At least, not in name. A good six months later Jody lures Sam to her place for “a little get-together” and he arrives to find her living room full. No one says that’s what it is, but they don’t have to. 

Jody was the first to know, weeks after. After Sam had already burned off steam on more than one hunt, alone, and found it wasn’t enough to help. 

She wasn’t the first to know because he reached out; calling someone would have made it real. He didn’t even call anyone after the first hunt came from a reference Donna sent to Dean’s phone, but he should have. He knows that. But Sam doesn’t think anyone blames him. 

Jody was only the first to find out because she happened to be the first to check in on them. Dean’s phone rang from the library table and her cheery, unsuspecting voice was all it took to crack his tentative walls and send him to the floor in tears. She and most of the girls were at the bunker before the day was out.

He brings a bag when they invite him for the “get-together,” because Jody tells him to. She tells him to plan to stay as long as he likes, if he wants to. If he needs to. That he’s always welcome. 

Between Jody’s house, Donna’s, Charlie’s apartment, Eileen’s, hunting...Sam doesn’t see the bunker again for a long, long time. 

***

He gets out. 

Well, mostly out. 

Sam knows he’ll never be entirely out. He’ll protect his children, if he has any, and he’ll never lie to them. They’ll know what’s out there. If they want to hunt when they’re grown, he won’t stop them. He won’t let any child of his feel trapped in any life. In OR out. 

Eileen’s wholehearted agreement to that leads to the house and the wooden fence and the simple ceremony in the nearest courthouse. A mantle covered in pictures and a home where they don’t have to hunt...but they can. Where they can change if they want to, but they don’t have to hide who they are.

They don’t go back to the bunker often, but they help Bobby and Charlie and the other hunters set it up as a home base, the way it was when they and the rest of the group from Apocalypse World first came through. 

Bobby calls Sam the day the other version of himself and Dean show up there, at the bunker; the ones from the other world. To network with the team there. Apparently Jack’s bringing everyone back saved them too, just like everyone else, even if the rest of their world is probably still gone. Sam makes no effort to see them - practically avoids them, really - and he thinks they probably understand why. His friends do. Eileen does.

Dean was right. Eileen understands him. And neither of them are going to waste her...third chance at life? Third. Since Jack brought back everyone Chuck erased. And Sam’s...well, he lost count a long time ago how many chances it’s been for him. 

The sting that is the fact that Dean and Cas didn’t get another chance never goes away. 

But the years pass, some easily and some not so easily, and sometimes everything is all right for a while. Like the days when Eileen is rolling her eyes from the porch and laughing while Sam tries to do something domestic, or the days they hunt and no one dies, or the days Jody and the girls or Garth and his family descend on their house. On those days, he knows he’ll be okay.

***

“Hello, Sam.”

Six years. It’s been almost six years when he hears that voice over his shoulder, low and familiar and full of emotion.

“Cas?”

Sam turns with the name on his lips, arms tightening instinctively around the ten month old baby in his arms because there is always the thought of a trick. Of something nasty. But really he’s fully expecting he’s only imagining things. He has to be. 

He isn’t.

Trench coat and all, Castiel is standing in his living room. Apparently with his wings in full working order again too, based on the way he just appeared there.

“Cas…!”

He can only free one arm, cradling his son against his chest with the other, but that one free arm latches onto the angel with all he has. 

“It’s good to see you too, Sam.”

“You…? Jack got you out again? Of the Empty?” He still hasn’t let go, and neither has Cas. “I...we were afraid he couldn’t, maybe. He didn’t say anything before he left, he—”

“Yes. It did take some time for him to become accustomed to his new power enough to accomplish it, but he freed me as soon as he could. I suppose he didn’t want to get your hopes up in the event he was unsuccessful.”

A bleating cry startles them apart, and Sam realizes he may have been squeezing a little too hard. 

“Is this your child?” Cas asks. His eyes have gone wide as if he just realized the baby is there, and Sam has to chuckle. He may have all of his mojo back for the first time in a long while, but he’s still Castiel.

“Yeah,” Sam laughs. “My son. And Eileen’s. Go figure, right?” He can’t help grinning at that, but the mirth slips when familiar pain tugs at his throat. The ache spreads down to his chest as he takes a breath. “His name’s Dean.”

The pain in Cas’s smile then is palpable, and maybe it’s stalling when he reaches to rest a hand against the back of the baby’s head. Dean’s fussing quiets immediately, and he drifts off against Sam’s chest. 

“H-Have you seen him?” Sam asks quietly. “Is he okay?” 

They both know who he’s talking about.

“He is safe, and well. In heaven.”

Sam doesn’t miss how he avoided the first question, but he decides not to press it for now. He just nods, glad to know that, at least. But Cas does go on, even if it’s not about exactly what he was wondering. 

“Heaven is different now. Jack...remade it. I suppose I helped in some capacity. More in moral support and the occasional idea, really.”

“Remade it?” Sam cocks his head in curiosity as he takes a careful step back to lower his sleeping son into the playpen by the couch to sleep until he can take him to his room. When he glances back up, Cas isn’t exactly looking at him.

“Souls are no longer separated. Everyone is together...as it always should have been.”

A warmth spreads through Sam’s chest, scattering the pain; a hope and a relief stronger than he’s felt in a long time. “So I’ll see him. It’s not just memories anymore.”

“No. Not just memories. You will be able to see anyone you wish to see who is there. Your brother, your parents, your Bobby and Charlie...anyone. Eternity with...with the ones you love.”

He seems to stumble over the last bit, and Sam reaches for his shoulder. “Cas?” He isn’t really sure what he’s asking, but he knows that something isn’t entirely right. 

The angel offers up a small smile. “The prophet Kevin is now in heaven where he should be. Jack was able to correct that, as well. Eileen and others like them will also be allowed into heaven.”

Sam sighs. “Good...that’s good.” 

But he isn’t ignoring the avoidance anymore.

“Cas, are you ok?”

Dark eyebrows go up. “Of course, Sam.”

“Well that’s a load of crap.”

The protest comes immediately. “I am perfectly well. I’m here to—“

“I didn’t ask _why_ you were here. You’re always welcome anywhere I am, Cas. You know that. That’s not what I mean.” The angel just stares at him, seemingly at a loss, and Sam sighs and motions to the couch. “Sit down, Cas, come on.” 

Cas shifts on his feet. “Thank you, but I should go. I should check on the others now that I’ve returned to Earth. Jody and Donna and...and Claire. I should check on Claire.”

“You have plenty of time to do that—”

But Cas is already gone.

***

Sam gets more than one call from the others after Castiel visits them, but he doesn’t see the angel again himself for weeks. 

“I’m sorry.”

Cas catches him after a run, startling him on a bench. “Geez…! Cas...I’m not used to that anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas repeats from beside him. But this time he smiles.

“Anyway...what are you apologizing for?”

“Leaving so abruptly. I know you were only concerned.”

Sam settles back on the bench, leaving the comfortable silence alone for a while.

“You haven’t seen Dean yourself, have you?” he asks gently, when he does break it. 

Cas makes a face. “He IS fine, just as I told you; you have my word. I know he’s safe, and happy, but...no. I haven’t seen him.”

“Why not?”

Cas shrugs, and for a moment Sam thinks maybe he won’t answer. But he waits patiently.

“With the changes to Heaven came...options, for those there. Nothing they’re aware of consciously, but it makes the transition easier for them. Time can...be different. Faster, slower...whatever’s needed.” Cas pauses and catches Sam’s gaze. “Such as if there’s someone they would want to wait for.”

Sam blinks. “Are you saying Dean’s waiting for me?”

“I suppose more correctly he is NOT waiting. Not for long, by his perception, in any case.”

“Kind of like fast-traveling?”

Cas blinks in confusion. “Yes...by definition.”

“You never really did video games, did you?” More staring. “...nevermind. Me either.”

“I don’t follow.”

Sam just shakes his head. “Forget it. So uh. If it’s like that there, why can’t you go back to heaven and do the same thing? Or hell, just snap him out of it. Tell him I said not to wait on me; we have a whole family of people up there.”

Now Cas is the one shaking his head. “It’s his choice, Sam. I won’t do that to him.”

“Does he even know you’re back? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if it was you; does he know?”

Cas hesitates. “I’m...not sure what he knows. I believe he knows I’m alive, but I am relatively certain he also believes I’m unreachable.”

“Unreachable? Like, off with Jack or something? Like when Chuck and Amarra ran off to who knows where?”

A slight incline of his head. “Something like that. And we were, for a time.”

Sam smiles a little. “How _is_ Jack?”

Cas shrugs. “He is...the most powerful being in the universe now. That’s a difficult question to answer.”

“Is he happy?” That was the only thing that mattered anymore, really. 

A wider smile than he’s seen yet since the angel returned spreads across Castiel’s face. He looks away, seeming to take in the clear spring weather, the trees, the birds and butterflies and the pond across the way. The beauty around them that lives, now, because Jack does.

“I think he is.”

Cas’s smile is contagious, and Sam lets himself feel it. “Yeah?” 

There’s so much beauty. It’s all still there, even without Dean. His wife, his son, the home and friends they share. The ending his brother wanted for him.

“Yes,” Cas says. “He’s different now. Of course. But he’s still Jack. And he’s doing well. He’s out there...learning, enjoying, creating...”

“And you went with him for a while?”

“For a while.”

“Why’d you come back?”

Cas’s eyebrows go up in that expression that means it should be obvious. “For you. And Claire, and the others. We all have eternity to be in heaven, or to see Jack when he returns. But your lives will only last so long.”

Sam raises one eyebrow in return. “And you think we need a babysitter?” The confusion comes back to his friend’s face, and he laughs. “Don’t get me wrong, Cas; I’m glad you’re here. I’m just wondering why you’re not...elsewhere, you know?” 

Cas leans over to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands clasping together and fingers working absently. It’s still so funny, sometimes, how Castiel has changed. When they met him, he never would have made unconscious movements like that. Not until after he was human for a while did things like that really start. How time changes things. People. Or angels.

“You mean with Dean,” Cas says, eventually. It’s so quiet Sam almost doesn’t catch it.

“Well...yeah. Pretty much. Or Kelly, or...something.”

“Because...I think Dean would want me to be here.”

That isn’t all there is. Sam knows it, but just looking at Castiel he can tell he isn’t ready to talk about it. 

“Okay, Cas. I’ll take that. For now.” The angel rolls his eyes, but Sam ignores it and gets to his feet with a beckoning arm outstretched. “Come on, come back to the house? Eileen hasn’t seen you yet.”

Cas seems to hesitate, but in the end he stands, nodding. “Very well. I would like that.” Then he smiles, and there’s something in it Sam can only describe as mischievous.

“Cas! Don’t you dare—”

But Cas has already taken his arm, and the park is replaced immediately with his living room and a healthy wave of nausea. A gust of air is knocking yesterday’s paper off the coffee table.

“I hate you.”

“You do not.”

*** 

“Sam, this small Dean is staring at me strangely.”

_This Cas keeps lookin’ at me weird._

Sam can’t help barking out a laugh, but he responds to his friend’s distress by reaching out for the baby in Cas’s arms. “I can take him back, if…”

Cas shakes his head, and even though he looks a little put out by the faces Sam’s son is making at him he seems to hold on a little tighter. “No, it’s all right.”

“Okay, suit yourself.”

Eileen leans across the table. “But when it’s nap time, I’m taking him upstairs whether you like it or not,” she says with a smirk.

“Duly noted,” Cas agrees. 

Before long Cas is bouncing the boy on his knees, much more comfortable. He’s smiling, but there’s something wistful about it. “I often wondered what it would have been like if Jack had been born as an infant.”

Sam offers him an understanding nod. He knows he’s thought about it himself. “Angels aren’t immune to wishful thinking, huh?”

“I seem not to be, in any case.” Little Dean is reaching up curiously, tugging at Cas’s tie and the lapels of his coat. “Besides what it might have been like to raise him that way...I wonder if things would be different now.”

“If it had been different things might never have come to a head the way they did, but...Chuck would probably still be out there, playing puppeteer. Whether we would know it or not is another thing, but still…”

Eileen shrugs. “I wouldn’t be here. I would still be in hell.”

“Yes. I am certainly glad you are not,” Cas agrees. “And heaven would not be improved. It’s...I suppose it is a pointless gesture to wonder.”

“Maybe,” Sam agrees. “But there’s nothing wrong with thinking about it.”

They never got to have Jack as a baby, and it’s nice to have the experience of having a child now. All of those years after Jess...during and after the apocalypse when Sam thought he didn’t want all of this anymore...bringing up Jack with Dean and Cas, caring so much about him, had made him admit to himself that he still wanted it. All of it.

He admits as much to Cas, once Eileen has taken Dean up to his nap. 

“I suspected so, and I’m glad to see you happy, Sam. After everything you’ve done and lived through, you deserve it.”

A long time ago, he would have argued that he didn’t deserve anything. He’d done a lot of good, but he’d done plenty of bad, too. Part of him _still_ wants to argue, but now he knows if he argues that, Eileen will find out. Somehow. And then she’ll drop-kick him. 

So instead of arguing, Sam lets himself believe it. If he could believe it from anyone still living, it would be Cas and Eileen anyway. 

“Thanks,” he says quietly. 

Cas stays so long as they catch each other up on what they missed that eventually the baby wakes up again, later that afternoon. When Sam brings him downstairs little Dean reaches out for the angel the moment he sees him. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Cas so innocently thrilled. 

“I think he likes you,” Sam laughs as he hands his son over. “You know that means you’re Uncle Cas now, right?” Cas freezes for a moment, blinking at him over Dean’s head. “You good with that?”

Dark eyebrows go up, and Cas inclines his head in that curious way of his. “Yes,” he says, eventually. As if it had been a serious deliberation. “I believe I like that.”

Sam claps him on the back. “Good.”

***

It takes a few months of regular visits before Sam is sure Cas is serious. Sure that Cas really doesn’t plan to return to heaven any time soon. 

Months of talking late into the night, gifts for Dean left by his crib, and sometimes even Uncle Cas taking over for the night, or a couple of nights, to give Sam and Eileen some time to themselves. Sometimes they even use that time to hunt, which is a nice change after thinking their hunting days were over until any children were much older. Not that they did it often anymore before Dean was born anyway, but it was something to still have the option. 

Cas seems glad to give them the chance. He seems equally glad when, sometimes, Eileen sends him off with Sam to hunt and stays home herself. 

“What else do you do when you’re not here?” Sam asks one night. The living room is dim, just the fireplace and a side table lamp to give them light after coming in late from a hunt. “Surely you’re not just rotating between all of us.”

“There’s still other work to be done here on Earth. Duties to attend to. I also assist the other hunters.”

“You go to the bunker? Bobby keeping you busy?”

Cas inclines his head. “He does ‘keep me busy,’ when needed. I...don’t go to the bunker.”

Sam lets out a breath, nodding in understanding as he pours himself another drink. “I get it.” 

When he offers the bottle Cas holds out his own glass for a refill. It can’t be doing anything for him, really—certainly not now that his wings and his powers have all been returned completely—but maybe it’s habit. Nostalgia.

If someone had told him 20 years ago, when he was just the boy with the demon blood, that one day he’d be waxing nostalgic in his own living room with an angel—and with a wife and son peacefully asleep upstairs, no less—he never would have believed it. He never would have believed he could be any kind of okay without his brother, either. 

“It’s all right, Sam.”

He blinks, pulled out of his thoughts. “What is?”

“I know you’re still unconvinced that I’m content. But with Jack away and Dean...occupied, for lack of a better term, where else would I be? Where else could I possibly _rather_ be?”

Sam shrugs. His boot nudges a toy on the floor between them; one Cas brought himself a few weeks ago. “I don’t think you’re unhappy, Cas. I’m glad you like being here. I just think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Cas studies his glass, turning it around in the firelight. “You’re right.”

“No kidding. You think you’ll ever tell me what it is?” 

He has an idea. He has a very _good_ idea. And he’s pretty sure it has something to do with the fact that Dean never told him more about the day Cas sacrificed himself to stop Billie. That Cas has never said anything about it either, since he got back. But he’d rather Cas tell him himself. 

He can’t help unless Cas talks to him.

“Perhaps one day, Sam.” That familiar pain is in his eyes again, but he smiles and it isn’t disingenuous. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For caring.”

“Of course. You’re family.”

If Cas needs somewhere safe to work through whatever’s going on in there, Sam is more than willing for his home to be that place. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a bit longer than I planned, but it's extra long! :) I can't wait to hear what ya'll think. Thanks so much for reading! <3

The months turn into years, with Cas around just as much, really, as he had been in the old days. More, sometimes. And just like it was then, Cas isn’t one to speak often about his feelings. And Sam begins to accept that he might never know more. Not this side of heaven, anyway.

All he can do is be there for Cas the way Cas is for him and his family. The way it always was. Just...different, now, without his brother. But having a family on Earth to come back to, no matter what happened, was always what grounded Sam. It seems to do the same good for Cas.

But that doesn’t mean it’s perfect, or that any of them are completely fine all of the time. What family is? And Sam senses something is changing the night of Dean’s fourth birthday. After the party, after everything else that day, when he comes back downstairs from putting Dean to bed Cas is still there. 

“Cas?”

He finds him out on the porch swing with a half-empty glass of punch that’s melted and one of those pensive expressions. His face is tilted up toward the sky, but Sam doesn’t think he’s really looking at the stars. 

“Cas? You okay?” Sam leans into the porch railing, studying him. 

A quiet grunt. “I uhm...I’ve been asked to return to heaven to aid in training the new ranks of angels. It wouldn’t prevent me from being here, at times, but…”

Sam waits for him to complete the thought, but he doesn’t. “Then...what? Surely you’re the most qualified? There’s only a handful of you left from uh, before, right?”

Cas’s eyebrows climb briefly in acknowledgment. “Yes. And I’m the only one left with any significant amount of combat experience. The one with the most to offer, really.” He makes a face as if he’s not necessarily happy about that. 

“Where’s the ‘but?’”

Cas let out a breath. It almost sounds amused, but what he says isn’t funny. “But the number of times I’ve failed to be any kind of leader. I...I’m aware this commitment is minimal in comparison…”

Sam nods. “I get it. Still scary.”

A small smile. “To put it very simply.” 

For a while crickets and a breeze are some of the only sounds, broken by the soft rumble of a distant storm.

“I’m surprised they haven’t asked before now,” Sam says eventually. “Didn’t you help when Jack made them? I know you helped with heaven and everything.”

“I did help to orient them once they were brought into being, but I’ve since left most of their training to the other remaining angels. Even after everything, I was still something of a controversial figure, I suppose. I didn’t want to exert too much influence. They needed to settle into their own new way of doing things.”

“New way?”

Cas inclines his head. “The original angels...we were warriors. And as you well know, not so much designed to have free will. The angels Jack created after he learned to use his new power are different. Protectors of humanity and heaven as we were, but with their own wills. Their own emotions.”

Sam can’t help smiling at that. “So Jack decided new angels should be more like you than any of the other assholes he’d met.”

Cas blinks. “I don’t know that I would say th—”

“I would! You’re his dad. I don’t blame him. Not to mention you’re one of the only angels I know who didn’t turn out to be a raging dick in the long run.”

“Perhaps…” 

Sam claps his shoulder and takes the other end of the porch swing. With his longer legs he has the advantage, easily pushing it into motion despite Cas’s steading feet against the deck. 

“Do I need to kick your ass?” he asks. 

Cas grabs at the chain to steady himself, shooting Sam a brief disgruntled look. “What? No, I…”

“You said you could still be here sometimes, right?”

“Of course. With our wings returned and the gates open once more…”

“So go, man. Help your new brothers and sisters. I know you want to do that much, and if you don’t want to, you know, interrupt Dean or whatever the hell you were talking about when you came back, and you still don’t want to tell me why, that’s fine. But don’t let that or what’s happened in the past stop you from helping how you want to now. If you actually want to.”

“I do want to,” Cas sighs. “I just don’t want to cause more problems. Again.”

“Okay. Then you won’t.”

This time, Cas actually chuckles. “If only it were that simple.” He gets to his feet, stopping the swing as goes. “But you’re right.”

“Usually am,” Sam smirks.

“Well, that is not true.”

“You’re just jealous.” He pulls the swing far enough forward with his feet that he’s able to prop his legs up on the porch railing and keep the swing suspended. Cas raises an eyebrow at him. “What?” Sam grins. He leans back comfortably, arms behind his head.

“I’ve come to understand why Crowley called you ‘Moose.’”

***

The voices coming from the living room when Sam comes in through the garage are familiar, just not exactly what he expected to hear on a weekday evening. 

“I win!”

His son’s small voice he expected, but instead of Eileen answering him, it’s Cas’s deep tones.

“So you do. You are very good at this game.”

“Have you played this one before?”

“I have. I first learned it with my son, Jack.”

“So shouldn’t you be better at it?”

Sam rounds the corner, arms full of grocery bags, as Cas laughs and releases the Connect Four pieces onto the kitchen table.

“Maybe,” he’s saying.

“Cas?” He pushes the door to the garage closed with a foot. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Hello, Sam. Yes. It seems Dean was ah...bored,” Cas says. He gets up to take some of the bags from Sam and bring them to the counter. “Eileen is upstairs; I relieved her.”

“I’m good at this game, Dad!” Dean calls from the table. Sam goes back to the table to pull him from his chair when he stands up on it.

“Hey, no. Butts go in chairs.” 

“I beat Uncle Cas!”

“I saw that; good job.” Sam kisses his cheek and sets him on the ground. “Just don’t stand in chairs, okay buddy?” He gets a vigorous nod in answer. “Okay. Go play in the living room, okay?”

Cas is already putting the groceries away, and Sam laughs and joins him. “You don’t have to do that. I got it.”

Cas just shrugs and continues helping. “How are you, Sam?”

“I’m good. I’m more curious about you, Cas. We haven’t seen you in a few weeks. I mean I know you’ve been busy upstairs, but anyway. Did Eileen call you?”

“No, actually.” Dark eyebrows go up. “Dean did. Or...he prayed for me, rather.”

Sam blinks. “Wait, really? He knows he can do that?”

“I don’t believe it was intentional at first. A prayer doesn’t have to be in so many words for me to pick up on it. Perhaps he was only thinking of wanting me there, but I came. A few weeks ago. He’d woken up after you and Eileen were asleep and was concerned that there might be some nefarious presence in his closet. I assured him there wasn’t.”

“Ah...yeah, he’s woken us up a few times with that. I guess he’s hit the overactive imagination stage. Did he make you turn on the closet light to show him?”

“I also made it clear that if there were anything dangerous in your home I would smite it.” Cas tilts his head when Sam snorts. “That wasn’t meant to be funny. Of course I would protect your offspring.”

He can’t stop laughing. “I know, I know. Anyway, uh...so what, now Dean’s doing it on purpose? Praying to you?”

“More or less. I haven’t necessarily encouraged it; I’m not a god to be prayed to in that way, but—“

Sam smirks a bit. “No, you’re just the new God’s dad.”

Cas lets out a breath that clearly means he’s done with the teasing for now. “In any case...as much as I haven’t particularly encouraged it, I don’t want to ignore him, either. I may know very little about the development of human children, but I believe you would agree that four is far too young to be subjected to issues with trust.”

“Yeah...yeah, of course. Thanks for that. It’s good to know he has you, too.”

“I would have explained what was going on sooner, but I’m afraid it’s been a busy time. I actually need to speak with you and Eileen about something else.” He grimaces at that.

Sam swallows. “Okay, sure. Stick around for dinner then?”

***

“You may be in danger.”

Sam glances over his shoulder before answering, even though he knows Dean is distracted in the kitchen by after-dinner ice cream and the tv show on his tablet. “Tell me something else that isn’t new.”

“What kind?” Eileen asks more seriously.

“We’ve been investigating murmurs of...something. It appears that’s why heaven asked me to return to help now, of all times. There are concerns. Demons who aren’t happy with the way Rowena has been—“ Cas stops, looking off as if he’s listening to something as he shoots to his feet.

“Cas?” Sam asks. He’s already rising to his own feet, tension gathering in his shoulders. He knows that look. 

“Angel radio. We have trouble coming this way, fast.”

“Coming here? You mean _here_ here, to the house?” he demands. 

Cas looks back at him, apologetic. “Yes, I’m afraid.”

Sam swears. “What are we looking at?”

“Demons, as I was afraid of...several of them. All of them low-level, I believe, but dangerous enough.”

“How many?”

“...at least a dozen.”

“Yeah! I’d say that’s dangerous enough.” When he swings around Eileen is already back in the kitchen and scooping Dean up from the table. She catches his eyes, and Sam signs quickly to make sure she caught everything and is headed for the basement. 

She nods. She’ll stay there with their son and a small arsenal. An emergency plan that’s long been in place.

Sam catches Eileen’s elbow on her way to the basement, pulling her in for a kiss and to give his son a peck on the head. From the corner of his eye, he catches Cas disappearing, just for a moment. By the time he turns back to where the angel was, he’s back with bags of salt at his feet. Some of the stores from the basement. 

“They won’t be able to get in easy,” Sam points out. “This place is warded six ways from Sunday against everything but angels.”

Cas nods. “I know.” But he’s already ripping open a bag to line the windows, and Sam snags up another to help. “I also added additional layers of warding in the veil.”

Sam blinks. “You w…?” No time to process that. He just shakes his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. 

“It’s been there for quite some time. One can never be too cautious. Even Rowena can’t completely control every demon in every moment; I always expected an attempt at something like this.”

“You and me both. Doesn’t mean I like it. Any chance for backup?”

“No...the warning came over angel radio rather than in person only because too many of the others are being engaged elsewhere.” Cas pauses. He looks stricken. “I can only hope the training they’ve had up to now has been enough.”

Sam reaches out to pat his shoulder briefly. “Hey, man, I’m sure you’ve taught them well. They’ll be okay.” 

The hesitation before Cas nods and moves on is brief, but he sees it. But there’s no time to get into that, either. He grabs up another bag of salt, tossing another to Cas too as they split up across the room. When he covers the window by the coat closet he pauses to reach into it, to a compartment at the back that hides extra angel blades. The demon blade is downstairs with Eileen.

“You good?” he calls.

Cas glances up, nodding as he summons his own blade and finishes salting the last window. The doors are all closed, all salted as well. Sam drops what’s left of the salt in the center of the entry. Just another stumbling block for anything that might make its way in. 

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Cas says suddenly.

Sam blinks, sparing him a glance over his shoulder as they take a stand between the living room and kitchen, back to back facing the front and back doors. 

“What? What for?”

“I expected some faction or another to try, someday, but I never meant to allow any sort of incursion to make it this far. This should not have to be your life any—”

“Cas, come on, you can’t be everywhere at once any more than Rowena…”

He wants to say more, but that’s when the back door begins to rattle on its hinges. 

***

Sam is pinned to a wall when he hears Eileen scream. It isn’t just surprise, or fear. He wouldn’t expect those from her anyway. It’s pain.

“Hear that?” the demon holding him snarls. “That’s your little bitch dying, and you’re next. Poor little baby Dean’s going to be all _alone_.”

He tries to call out, but he _can’t_. He can’t do anything with a burly forearm in his neck. He tries to maneuver his blade to strike, but he fails, and everything is getting fuzzy.

A flash, and the pressure is gone. The demon falls smited at his feet, and a hand catches him briefly as he stumbles away from the wall. 

“Go!” Cas urges, nodding toward the basement. 

He doesn’t have to be told twice. He and Cas have already taken out a good number of the demons that managed to get in upstairs. A Castiel at full strength, as he has been since Jack brought him back this time, can undoubtedly handle the rest. 

The basement door slams his knee in his haste as he yanks it open and barrels down the creaking wooden stairs, pulling it closed again behind him to offer what protection it can. Sam doesn’t know what he expected to find, but his heart stutters. 

Two demons dead on the ground, eyes burned out from the demon blade, and one snarling from within an extra devil’s trap in the far corner where it must have been shoved. Red and white paint splatters the floor, marring and breaking the trap just inside the splintered cellar door. Nothing he hasn’t seen before. 

But just outside the trap that holds the only demon left alive, Eileen is sprawled on the floor with a knife in her gut. Gasping, still alive.

The demon seems happy to see him though, twisting the face of an older man into an evil sneer. 

“Too late,” it says mockingly. 

Sam wastes no time dashing across the basement to plunge an angel blade through its heart. “For you it is.”

He lets his weapon drop with the demon, already turned away and dropping to his knees when the body hits the floor. 

“Eileen? No no no no no...Cas!” He takes the hands that flails for his, reaches for her face with his free fingers.“Cas!”

“S-Sam…”

“You’ll be okay, you’ll be fine. Where’s…?”

Eileen glances up and behind her, straining through a pained, gagging cough. Sam squeezes her fingers, following her gaze to the small iron chamber in the corner of the basement. They weren’t able to build something as impressive as Bobby’s safe room, but it was something. Somewhere to keep their son safe.

The door is cracked, and for a moment Sam loses his breath all over again. Until he spots the dark-haired head and hazel eyes peering out, and a small muffled sob reaches his ears.

“Dean...hey. Hey, buddy, it’ll be okay. Just stay in there for me, okay? It’s okay.” A weak squeeze on his hand makes him look back down again. “Eileen...hang on. Just hang on...Cas!”

He wills his voice to project up the basement stairs, but he doesn’t look up. His gaze is locked with Eileen’s. He doesn’t dare touch the knife; leaving it where it is may be the only thing keeping her alive, and something in her eyes tells him she knows it, too.

Not again. Not now.

_Cas, please…!_

At long last, the commotion upstairs seems to die down. In his next breath, the familiar sound of wingbeats comes the instant before Cas is standing over them. He could have just come down the stairs, but Sam is more than grateful for the haste.

“Cas…?”

The angel seems, strangely, to be frozen for a few brief seconds as he takes in the scene. It’s unlike him, but by the time Sam gathers enough presence of mind to think to say something else Cas is moving again. He crouches beside them, reaching with two fingers to Eileen’s forehead first to knock her out before he pulls the knife from her body in one fluid movement. The bleeding that comes from removing it only lasts a moment. Soon the comforting glow of healing energy from Cas’s palms seals the wound. The cuts on her face and arms fade away in smaller flashes of light.

Eileen gasps, jolting off the concrete floor as her body becomes whole again. Sam catches her, pulling her into his arms. 

“Thank you…” he breathes. 

“Are you all right?” Cas asks. A hand on his shoulder, and Sam nods, though he isn’t sure if Cas was asking him or Eileen. 

Sam looks up, his wife gathered into his chest and looking for his son. Cas is already up, pulling the creaking iron door of the safe chamber open farther. Dean barrels out, wrapping himself around his uncle’s legs so tightly Cas nearly trips before he can hoist him up instead. He ends up wearing the boy like a lopsided backpack across his chest, and Sam might have laughed at the sight if he weren’t still trying to catch his breath. 

He swallows. “Cas, we’re...it’s okay up there?”

“Yes. We’re clear at the moment.” Cas comes back to them, still on his feet holding Dean. 

“Good...good.” Sam sighs, letting his head rest against Eileen’s. For a little while, there is only quiet. Resting. Heavy breaths and sniffles. Sam swipes at his face, well aware that little Dean clinging to Cas isn’t the only one with wet cheeks.

So many times he’s lost people, or come close to losing them. It never gets any easier. Eileen squeezes his hands, kisses him. She knows. 

Eileen is the one to tug at him, to urge him to his feet. “Come on,” she says. “We should get everyone upstairs. If this is over, I want a shower.”

Sam laughs weakly, more than ready to follow her lead. It’s only fresh noise from upstairs that makes him freeze in place. A thousand thoughts go through his mind. Should he take Dean from Cas, or take a blade and go up there himself, or…?

But then a clear female voice cuts through the tension, echoing down from the living room. “Boys?”

“Rowena?” Cas murmurs. He takes the stairs first, apparently sure enough to bring Dean with him. Sam trusts him, and certainly with the angel radio and those angelic senses of his he’d know if there were any danger up there.

“Castiel!” The voice comes first, once Cas is through the door at the top of the stairs, and any doubts are put to rest. “So good to see you up and about; I’d heard about the unfortunate dying again incident and our dear boy bringing you back.”

“I...yes, well…”

“Everyone else in one piece?”

Sam emerges from the basement with Eileen. Physically she’s fine, healed, still urging him on, even. But neither of them has let go yet. Whether either of them really needs the support or not, they’re holding on. 

“More or less,” he sighs. 

Rowena turns from where she’s planted in the center of the living room. Several demons are arrayed behind her, inside and outside, but the way they’re standing silently, still, tells him they’re hers. Loyal. Her entourage. The only one not quiet and waiting for orders is the one pinned to the wall.

“Sam! There you are! And I see your wee one is all right,” Rowena says, nodding to the boy still in Cas’s arms. 

Sam swallows, exchanging a glance with Cas. When he flicks his eyes to the demon pinned against the wall, he receives a small head shake in response. It isn’t one of the ones who attacked. Cas hasn’t seen it before.

“Rowena…it’s good to see you too, but what are you doing here?”

She smiles in that way she has; the way that means someone is in dire trouble. She twists a hand and the pinned demon screams. 

“Had to come up here myself for this, didn’t I? Can't have anyone believing it’s possible to disobey or scheme against me without the consequences, now can I? I found this one outside as your little scuffle was finishing up. He’s their ringleader, I think. Not even brave enough to come in here himself.”

From the corner of his eye, Sam catches Dean burying his face deeper into Cas’s neck...Cas holding onto him tighter. Rowena’s eyebrows go up and she relaxes her hand. The demon goes quiet.

“Right,” she says. “Well. He’ll be getting his due.” Behind her, the lackeys in suits file farther in and go right to the bodies. Except for the ones that come to haul away the prisoner. “Don’t worry, I’ll have this cleaned up. More in the basement, I take it?”

Sam just nods, bewildered. Rowena comes closer, resting a hand on his arm as the evidence of everything that happened here tonight begins, slowly but surely, to disappear around them. 

“Go on, Sam, dear. Take care of your family. Get yourselves cleaned up.”

“I...thank you,” he says. It’s so strange. He hasn’t seen her in years. Since they discovered she was the queen of hell. “It really is good to see you.”

Murmurs of annoyance from the door make them all look up. A young woman in a sundress is pushing her way inside, leaving disgruntled demons in her wake. “Castiel!” she calls. 

An angel, then. Eileen seems fine standing on her own, so Sam reaches out to Cas to take his son. Cas hands the boy over with a parting pat on his head to reassure him. Dean whines quietly, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck.

“Bethany,” Cas is saying. “The others?”

He steps forward to meet the other angel, who doesn’t seem perturbed by the presence of so many demons or even the queen of hell herself. Maybe part of their training has been to move this new generation of angels away from the old ‘smite first ask questions later’ attitude. The wardrobe is certainly different. 

“The attack has ended. The demons have been neutralized with minimal casualties to the garrison.”

Cas sighs. “That there were any at all is regrettable…” 

He continues, leaning in closer to the other angel as they speak, and Sam is struck by how different it is to the way it used to be watching Cas communicate with any of the old angels. There’s nothing of the old stiffness, from either of them. Maybe body language means little when neither being really looks like what Sam is seeing, but it all seems so much more open anyway. Cas even squeezes the female angel’s shoulder briefly before turning back to Sam and Eileen. 

“I should go…” he begins.

Sam is already nodding. “Of course. I’m sure they need you. We’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

***

When Sam comes back downstairs, maybe an hour or more later, the house looks as if nothing happened. No bodies, no blood, anything broken has been removed…

The only indication anything occurred at all is the queen of hell at his kitchen table sipping tea. 

“Rowena…” He looks around pointedly. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Ach, don’t worry; I didn’t do a stitch of it myself. That’s what lackeys are for, after all.”

Sam chuckles, reaching out to take her hands in a familiar squeeze as she leaves her teacup behind to stand. “It really is good to see you.”

“Of course. I’d hope it would be nice to be in the presence of a queen.”

“Come here.” He pulls her into a hug, assuming he’s welcome to do so now with none of her demons about to stare at them. 

“I can’t stay long,” Rowena says. “But I did want to be sure to give you a proper goodbye after all of that. And don’t worry, that coward that was here and the two my people brought back alive from the attack on the angels will be made very good examples.”

Sam holds up his hands as they part, smirking. “I don’t want to know the details.”

“You really don’t.”

The sound of wingbeats tells him that Cas has returned, and when they look to find him there Rowena seems just as pleased to see him as before. She steals a brief embrace from him, too, which Cas doesn’t seem reluctant to give. 

“Well, boys; I should be going. The last reception of the evening is upon me. After that, it’s time for the fun. Take care of yourselves.”

“You too,” Sam nods. 

Then with a coy smile, Rowena is gone. 

Cas blinks at the teacup and saucer left behind on the table. “You don’t own cups like that.”

“No, we do not.” A second later, the cup and saucer disappear, too. “Still don’t, apparently.”

Sam runs a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face as he trails into the living room. For a moment he just stands there, trying to remember if he came this way for a reason. Maybe just to sit down, but now he doesn’t want to. 

“Sam?” Cas asks. “Are you all right?”

A hand at his elbow, and for some reason that’s what makes him aware of the last of the adrenaline draining away. 

“Yeah. I uhm...yeah,” he says with an uneven breath. 

Cas is looking at him skeptically. “Eileen? Dean?”

“They’re okay. Upstairs sleeping. Or uh...Dean is asleep; Eileen is with him. I’m fine, and it’s not Eileen’s first rodeo, but…

“But...what?”

“I’m worried about Dean. He’s _four_ , Cas; way too young for this but still old enough to remember later anyway, probably, and-and that’s...that’s how old…” Sam swallows hard, clenching his hands together to stop them trembling. “History could have repeated itself here and I’ve gotta admit that _terrifies_ me.”

Cas winces, looking away. “I imagine that is exactly what they wanted.”

“Yeah...I had that thought.”

Sam’s mouth feels dry and sticky admitting it. How scared he was when he realized they didn’t want to _kill_ his son; they wanted to do the same thing to him that Azazael had done to himself and his brother. 

They wanted to take Dean’s mother away, horribly. Both parents. Leave him scarred and seeking revenge the way his namesake had grown up. Maybe Sam’s brother had overcome that curse—whether Dean himself ever really thought he had or not—but that didn’t mean any of them ever wanted it for anyone else. 

“I could make sure he won’t remember any of this. It would be no great loss, as young as he is.”

“I had that thought too,” Sam sighs. “But I can’t ask you to do that. I can’t hide things from him the way our parents hid things from us. When Eileen got pregnant we uh...we decided we’d never do that. I won’t.”

Cas inclines his head, thoughtful. “Understandable. But if not that...if you agreed, I could perhaps put up an emotional barrier. Not take the memories from him, if anything of today remains when he’s older, but simply something to be certain they won’t affect his development.”

Sam can feel his eyebrows climbing. “You could do that?”

“I have never tried precisely that, but it may be possible.”

“Ok, well...I trust you to try if you think it’s worth giving it a shot.”

“Of course. Tomorrow. Best to let him sleep now.”

Sam nods and settles tiredly into one of the living room’s armchairs. Once he’s sitting down he kicks himself for not getting a drink first, because now he doesn’t want to get up again. 

“How were the other angels doing?” he asks. 

With a heavy sigh, Cas lowers himself onto the edge of the couch. “They fought well. The few losses we suffered, however...it’s difficult for them. This is the first real loss most of them have experienced, except for the few that were once human.”

“Human? Oh uh, that Bible study of people Jack turned into angels when he didn’t have a soul?”

“Yes. When Duma was manipulating him. After he brought the new angels into being he gave the former humans the option to return to their human lives or simply move on into the rebuilt heaven as souls if they wished. There were those that chose one or the other of those things, but a few remained as angels. It’s been helpful to have them among us.”

Us. It’s strangely nice to hear Cas talk like that. Like he’s truly part of the family of heaven again. Even a few months ago he still seemed to feel set apart, an outsider. The way he’d been ever since he first rebelled. That seems to be changing, and as much as Sam is happy call Castiel part of his own family, he can’t help but be happy Cas has more than one. He deserves it.

“They helping the others adjust? You think they’ll be all right?”

Cas nods. “They will be...in time. They will have to learn to process these emotions just as any other being coming of age, and I have faith in them. And yes, the former humans seem to have already taken the initiative to help. I don’t know if I would have felt comfortable leaving them otherwise”

“Yeah, I get that. And hey, any time you need to go back...you know, we’ll be okay here.” Sam lets his head flop onto the back of the chair. “God, I need to...I know what Rowena said. I’m sure she’ll do everything she can, and that she has, but maybe we should go ahead and get an anti-possession tattoo on Dean. Just in case, even if has to be redone when he’s older. And...I don’t know what else. I’m too tired to think anymore tonight.”

“Don’t then,” Cas says. “You should sleep, as well.”

Sam laughs weakly. “I don’t know if I can. I’m not used to this anymore.” The adrenaline is gone, his body tired and weighing him down, but his mind is far from quiet.

From the corner of his eyes he catches Cas start to stand, two fingers extending together. “I could make you—”

“No, no it’s okay, thanks,” Sam says, waving him off gently. Cas shrugs and lowers himself back to the couch.

“But you’re sure you’re all right?”

He nods, rubbing at his eyes, but a flash of memory from the basement makes him wince and pull his head up again. 

“Cas...thank you again. For being here, for Eileen earlier, I...thank you.” He swallows. “Should have said that more often back in the day, shouldn’t we?”

Cas makes a face, and it isn’t really clear at all why. “No, Sam, I…”

“We should have,” Sam says more firmly.

Cas gets up, maybe a little too quickly. “I uh...I’m glad I was here. This time.” 

He disappears into the kitchen, and it gives Sam time to process the pained look he caught on his friend’s face even though Cas was clearly trying to hide it. When he comes back with a whiskey bottle and two glasses he sets them on a side table with a hard thunk and drifts to the fireplace. 

Sam’s gaze wanders to the pictures across the mantle Cas seems to be looking at. Pictures from the old days in the bunker, among other things.

“Cas?” When he doesn’t get an answer at first, he ventures on anyway. “Cas...w-what happened...to Dean...it wasn’t your fault.”

The sound that comes out of Cas makes Sam wince; something between the bark of a harsh laugh and a sob. “I should have been there. If I had been there he would still be here.”

Why have they never talked about this? He didn’t want to force it, not if Cas wasn’t ready, but…

“What? That doesn’t make it your fault.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No! Come on, Cas, please don’t tell me you’ve been thinking that for years…”

“What am I supposed to think, Sam! It’s true.” He scrubs a hand across his face, the other clinging to the mantle like it’s a lifeline. “I’m sorry; I don’t want to burden you with—”

“Stop it.” Sam gets to his feet, slow and tired, but determined. “It’s not like that. You’re family, Cas. I can’t just let you go around thinking it’s your fault.”

“Then...then what am I supposed to think?” Cas says again. This time it’s quiet and pained rather than angry. Less rhetorical and more like he’s really begging for someone to give him an answer.

“You’re supposed to know you can’t be everywhere and save everyone. No one can. How many times have you told us that? Hell, Cas, even in the _really_ old days before the angels fell bad things happened all the time when you weren’t around. We didn’t blame you for that, either.” He has to pause when unwanted memories rise to the surface. “Well...maybe sometimes we did. But we shouldn’t have.”

A snort. “I appreciate the sentiment, but the point is moot in this case. I could have come back sooner. I _should_ have.”

“You were with Jack. He was a literal three-year-old trying to figure out how to be God; he needed you.”

Cas makes another one of those sounds, but it’s more clearly a sob this time. His head falls. “Dean needed me.”

Sam reaches for his shoulder. “Cas…”

“He could have had something like this too.” His gaze comes up enough to sweep over the living room and kitchen. The fireplace and the abandoned toys on the floor and the trappings of a home. “A peaceful life, after everything...or...mostly peaceful.” It looks like he tries to smile, but it crumbles. “I...I’m sorry, Sam. I am so sorry...”

It seems like there’s still something else, but it also seems to Sam that this is enough to address for now. It’s bad enough that this is what Cas has thought since he came back. That he’s blamed himself.

Sam lets out a long breath and pulls Cas in. “It’s ok. Come on, buddy, come here. It’s okay.”

Apparently, the young new angels aren’t the only ones who still have processing to do. 


End file.
